


Losing You

by L0NE



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: F/F, and you’d be valid either way, or straight, you could either think of this as gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 01:52:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19189501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0NE/pseuds/L0NE
Summary: “You always say that we shouldn’t worry about you, and that you’ll always be fine, and all those things…” Lana says. Her voice is thick with tears, but still has a bite of anger to it. “But if I hadn’t followed you out of worry with Lester, you would have been completely gone.”





	Losing You

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote 90% of this at 2 am and i dont know what beast overtook me  
> again you can either interpret this as them being very close friends or gfs. that sounds like a 4kids-ass explanation but i do that myself, so, yeah.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Lana whispers.

 

It’s in such a small voice that Larcei almost doesn’t hear it. All she’s been able to process for what’s felt like an eternity is the pain rippling through her body, starting at the top of her head and going downwards toward the broken leftover parts of her body that she can’t even properly distinguish from the pain yet. Lana’s voice is the only thing that grounds her, but it fades in and out, as uncertain as rolling dice.

 

Her senses begin come back to her and stabilize in waves— Firstly, Larcei sees from the single soft light cast by the moon overhead that it’s nighttime, which strikes her as odd, because her most recent memory was from fighting some brigands earlier that evening. Secondly, she’s able to feel grass beneath her, rather than, say, her own bed, where she usually spends her nights. Thirdly, the smell of blood is overwhelming, so much so that if she wasn’t already choking up some of it she would probably vomit.

 

Fourth and finally, Larcei feels the warmth of a stave pressed against her slowly reforming stomach, a familiar hand holding hers, and a small voice whispering over and over through tears above her. When Larcei squints and really tries to focus, she can see Lana hunched over her, her soft hair covering her eyes and her normally white attire ruined by blood.

 

Larcei goes to say something, but she realizes how much her throat hurts when she tries to say so much as a single syllable, so she lets out a choked up groan that doesn’t seem to alarm the cleric at all. Though she can’t feel it fully, she tries to squeeze with the hand Lana is holding. Her fingers only dig slightly into the her’s, but it’s enough— Lana whips her neck over, cheeks wet and eyes wide as she stares down at her friend.

 

“Wh…” is all Larcei can choke out.

 

“Ambush,” Lana replies, voice strained.

 

Larcei closes her eyes to think. She had been fighting those brigands last she remembered, and there were maybe only four… or five? Or six, seven, maybe? 

 

A fuzzy memory dances by of a whole hoard of ne’er-do-wells, and she grimaces. She was probably lured out and jumped.

 

“Seliph told you not to go, but you did anyways,” Lana mumbles, focusing back on Larcei’s stomach. “You said not to worry.”

 

The output of mana from the staff increases, making Larcei wince just a bit as it agitates her skin, but Lana doesn’t seem to care. “You always say that we shouldn’t worry about you, and that you’ll always be fine, and all those things…” She says. Her voice is thick with tears, but still has a bite of anger to it. “But if I hadn’t followed you out of worry with Lester, you would have been completely gone. If I hadn’t started patching you up as soon as I did, then you would have been...”

 

Larcei’s heart sinks. 

 

“I… didn’t… mea… n to,” Larcei wheezes.

 

“Do you know how much I care about you?” Lana asks plainly. She knows Larcei can just barely speak, so she continues, “More than you’ll ever know. I care about everyone in the Liberation so much that sometimes I get scared over the smallest possible things, like if when we march in the rain someone will get sick or if I don’t make dinner appealing to everyone it’ll ruin our performance.”

 

Lana pulls something from the pouch she has around her waist and puts it to Larcei’s stomach, but the swordswoman can’t see exactly what she’s doing. A cool sensation spreads over the area that overrides the pain, one like she got into a bath too early, and then a soothing warmth replaces it. “And I care about you and everyone I grew up with even more,” she continues. 

 

“So when you say you’re fine, or that I don’t need to worry, or you brush off the idea of anyone supporting you… It makes me so upset.” She lifts her staff up and straps it to her back like she usually has it, and it’s then that Larcei realizes Lana’s completed her treatment. Of course, her entire body still aches, but whatever had been applied to her wound directly seems to be slowly easing her overall discomfort. Once she’s put everything away, the majority of her tools not visible to Larcei’s view with how she’s laying, Lana turns her whole body to Larcei and leans down just slightly. “We don’t say those things because we don’t think you can’t handle something. We say them because we want to make sure you’re safe. There’s such a huge difference, but you never think of it like that.”

 

She snatches Larcei’s hand up with both of her own and closes her eyes, lips trembling. “Please… Please, just rely on me and everyone else. Stop being so reckless. I don’t want to do this again.” She breathes, “I don’t want to scramble over putting your organs back into place ever again.”

 

There’s a near-silence between the two as Lana murmurs a prayer under her breath, something Larcei always hated her doing, because she never felt like she needed to be protected by some god she didn’t know. But now, she lays still and doesn’t say a word, letting Lana take as much time as she needs. 

 

When her eyelids flutter back open, and she can see how worn her eyes are from crying and stress, Larcei’s heart aches again. “Lan… a,” she squeezes Lana’s hands back, then parts from her hold to cup her cheek. It’s wet, she notices, but she doesn’t lose her hold— instead, she gently rubs her face, fingertips brushing through her hair. “I’m… sor…  ry.”

 

There’s a pause as Larcei lifts her other arm and puts it to Lana’s shoulder. She doesn’t have any strength in her left to hug her right now, but with how she’s positioned, she’s hoping Lana gets the gist of what she’s trying to do.

 

Luckily, she does. And that small, tender gesture is all it takes for Lana to break down sobbing. 

 

“I was so scared you were going to die, Larcei…!” She cries, leaning into her touch. “I don’t want to lose you…!” 

 

Larcei strokes her face. “I wo… n’t do it… again.”

 

Lana shakes her head. “Promise me. Please. Please promise me that you won’t…”

 

“Pro… mise.”

 

“I love you so much, Larcei, I don’t know what I’d do without you. The entire time, I was thinking about what I would have to tell Ulster or Seliph, or if I would have to march alone tomorrow, I was so scared, I…”

 

“I won’t… leave you al… one.”

 

“Please… please…”

 

“...Promise.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Starting the next day, when she’s back on her feet, Larcei doesn’t leave Lana’s side.


End file.
